Screw the Nobles, Love the Elf
by TheLivelyBunch
Summary: All her life, Cassia Cousland has rebelled against the restrictive social norms of her class. So what can she do when an amorous, amoral elf invades her life? C'mon, people! The cheeky assassin romances the spoiled princess! Anyone? ...Anyone?
1. Chapter 1

"You don't say!" came the delighted shriek. "I cannot believe that Eleanor managed to drag her stubborn daughter to your salon! You must tell me everything that happened, and don't hold back any detail." Like a child eager for her bedtime story, Lady Alexandra scooted her chair closer to Lady Landra, eyes gleaming with humor and a smile playing on her lips.

Lady Landra toyed with her friend, taking a most unnecessary sip of her tea. "Hmm," she drawled, "this tea tastes a bit weak, don't you agree? I should remind the servants to boil the tea leaves a bit longer."

Alexandra slapped Landra playfully on the wrist. "Oh, don't tease me so," she said. "Come on. Be a dear and tell me everything, or I shan't leave until you do so."

With an exaggerated weariness, Landra set down her tea and straightened her skirts. "Well," she said, drawing the single-syllable word out as long as possible. Alexandra leaned even closer, her skirts rustling as she shifted in her seat. "You won't believe this, but the girl actually behaved herself."

Alexandra's eyes narrowed. "You're still teasing me," she sniffed. "And here I expected better from my close friend. I should leave at once, for the insults I've suffered here have been most excessive."

"You daft woman," laughed Landra. "I _am_ serious! The girl didn't complain, share inappropriate jokes, or imitate one bodily function! She was an absolute doll the whole night. It was really a _most_ enjoyable evening. I wish you could've have come."

Alexandra sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "Hmmph," she pouted. "I'd hoped for at least one scandal. Tell me, does her mother still permit her to train with weapons?"

"Eleanor has limited the girl's studies, but yes, she is still training. Eleanor has described whatever she's learning as more 'lady-like', though she wouldn't go into detail."

"Well, I suppose that will do," Alexandra sighed. Resolutely, she picked up her cup and sipped her own tea. "Now that you mention it," she said after a moment. Adopting a ridiculously cheerful and animated demeanor, she continued with, "the tea is a bit bland. I don't suppose you've tried buying some foreign tealeaves? They're really quite nice. Senior Fogelburp's is my most favorite brand to buy. You should try it sometime…."

"Oh, stop it, you!" Landra interjected loudly. Alexandra stared at her friend with an expression of mock surprise. "I'll tell you something else if you'll pipe down." She beckoned her friend closer before continuing. "My son, Dairren, is absolutely smitten with her. He wouldn't stop ogling her all night. I spent half my time trying to convince her to marry him."

Alexandra sighed with pleasure as the juiciness of the gossip settled within her mind. Landra for her part looked quite pleased with herself, never mind that she compromised her son's privacy.

"I wasn't aware that Dairren like the wild ones," Alexandra commented. "Tell me, how do you really feel about it?"

"Well…," Landra struggled with the right words. "She's very dynamic, I suppose. Very strong-willed, fun-loving, and confident…."

"…very open-minded," Alexandra muttered impishly. "Has a weakness for the elves, or so I hear."

"That was three years ago, Alexandra." Landra dismissed the notion with a girlish wave of her hand. "Besides, she seemed interested in Dairren enough. I'll be taking him with me to her estate next week. They'll have some more time to talk then."

"And of course you'll tell me everything. Right?" Alexandra asked, her eyes wide and hopeful.

"Of course, dear," Landra promised, squeezing her friend's hand. And the two, silly old ladies spent the rest of their evening in companionable chatter, swapping gossip and sipping their bland teas.

Author's Note: Just a prologue people, so it's short. To be honest, it was easy coming up with Lady Couslan's character (since the Human Noble Origin is my favorite anyway) but it took me forever to decide whom to pair her with. Because I wanted her to have this "weakness for elves", I eventually settled on Zevran though Alistair, Jowan, Bann Teagan, and Anders each put up a great fight. This isn't a popular pairing so…. I don't expect a lot of reviews. They are appreciated though


	2. Meet the Assassins

"Ah yes, that was quite lovely," Cassia Cousland said, sitting herself near the fire. "I can see now why the Mages are so renowned for their hospitality. Perhaps next time they will regale us with a visit from the Archdemon himself, and not some of his retched underlings."

"Quiet," Leliana hushed, "do you want our guest to hear you?" She seated herself near Cassia, and the two began picking bits of gore from their breastplates.

"Disgusting," Cassia commented, her pleasant face wrinkling into an expression of revulsion. "Ugh. I had no idea that Demon slime was so foul. There's absolutely no way I can completely clean this armor."

"It _is_ very sticky," Leliana agreed. "Perhaps Wynne could suggest a way to clean our equipment? She has dealt with the demon kind before, after all."

"Hang on," said Cassia quite suddenly, "do we still have those empty vials from the Mage tower?"

Leliana rummaged through her pack before extracting the glass beakers. "Here," she said, handing them to Cassia. Her eyes widened as the Grey Warden began placing bits of the blood-colored goop inside the vials. "What in the Maker's name are you doing?"

"Saving this stuff so I can throw it at someone I don't like," Cassia explained, as though collecting Demon slime was as natural as breathing and eating. Leliana shook her head in bewilderment at the Grey Warden's antics, unsure of whether she found them amusing or downright peculiar. "Besides," Cassia continued, "this armor is almost ruined anyway. I may as well get some use out of it before I trash it."

"I'm sure we can find some new clothing a long the way," Leliana said in her usual optimistic manner. "Err… where are we going again?"

"Orzammar," answered Cassia, not looking up from her cleaning. She said it loud enough for Alistair to hear, and she could sense his disappointment at her decision. It was not like him to complain in public, however, and she fully expected a private visit from him later regarding her choice.

"And after Orzammar?" Alistair questioned. He squatted near Cassia and Leliana, inviting himself into the conversation.

Cassia glanced at his face for a fraction of a second before returning to her task. He looked as she'd imagined him: a mixture of discontent, resignation, and hope were reflected in his boyish features. Despite the vitality of their mission, Alistair was the one member of their party that Cassia loathed to disappoint. She found his childish mannerisms almost endearing and in a way, adorable, and she hated to upset him more than necessary. "Redcliffe, of course," she responded. This seemed to please him, and he sat back on his haunches with an air of relief and a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I can smell Wynne cooking dinner," Leliana sighed. "It smells so good, much better than what we usually eat. I wonder what she's making?"

"Some kind of stew, from what I gathered," Alistair said. He watched Cassia for a moment before quickly turning away, his ears reddening as he did so. She was not unattractive, after all, and she turned many more heads than she cared to notice.

Her ebony hair glinted in the light of the fire and her skin, slightly tanned from traveling in the Ferelden sun, blushed orange in the glow of the flames. Dark, thick lashes framed her bright blue eyes and her pretty mouth – though pursed into a thin line of concentration – was delicate and bow-shaped. Built smaller than the average Ferelden woman, she was several inches shorter than both Leliana and Morrigan and, though a bit thinner than most, she still possessed the curvaceous hips and the magnificent bosom that made Ferelden women legendary.

"I'm not wasting any more time on this," Cassia announced suddenly, shattering the silence of the camp. Pushing the soiled equipment aside, she stretched her legs and casually scratched Bane, her Mabari hound, behind one of his small, pointed ears. The canine wagged his tail with pleasure before rolling onto his back, allowing Cassia to run her small hands along the length of his expansive chest.

"I hate to interrupt the party," came a familiar voice from behind them. The three turned abruptly to face Morrigan, who stood behind them with her arms crossed over her chest. It was highly unusual for her to leave her separate establishment voluntarily, and the look on her face suggested her irritation. She continued, "but what are our plans for tomorrow?"

Cassia grinned impishly. "Oh, so she _can_ talk! And I was beginning to think our charming companion was under a spell that prohibited her from socializing with others." She carried on in mock confusion, "but why does the enchantment only seem to affect her while she's at camp, I wonder? She's certainly capable of expressing her dissatisfaction any other time...."

Morrigan's eyes narrowed and her frown deepened as she glared at the Gray Warden, who smiled back like an idiot. "I express myself when it benefits me, not you," she spat. "And I use our time at camp to gather herbs and supplies, not to waste my precious minutes on conversing with fools. Now, are you going to tell me your plans or not?"

"While I hate to rush things," Cassia said finally, deciding to ignore Morrigan's irritability, "we should start traveling to Orzammar right away. But I'd like to give us a break, so I wouldn't mind beginning around late-morning tomorrow instead of at the crack of dawn."

"Perhaps we should plan to travel a bit earlier than that," Leliana suggested. "I'd hate to run into any unexpected delays while we are traveling. You know how the Darkspawn just love turning up at the worst times."

"I'm not worried," Cassia waved off Leliana's concern with a dainty flap of her hand. "Besides, if we can handle the Darkspawn, we can handle anything." Feeling quite relaxed, Cassia joined the others at dinner, her mind at ease and her heart at rest.

True to her word, Cassia allowed her group a brief rest before they embarked on the next leg of their journey. Following a quick breakfast, they packed up camp and traveled north with the intent of bypassing Lake Calanhad to safely arrive at Orzammar. Fate, the proverbial stick up Cassia's nether regions, had it's own plans and true to its nature, would not allow them an anodyne passage to the Dwarven homeland.

"This isn't so bad," Wynne observed. "No Darkspawn or thieves yet." The road did seem peaceful enough, and the sun hung lazily in the afternoon sky, providing the travelers with comfortable warmth.

"Just keep your eyes peeled," Morrigan warned. "Trouble has a way of finding our Grey Warden friend. Don't count on me to save your wrinkled skin if things get too rough."

"Don't be so positive and upbeat, Morrigan," Cassia said, rolling her eyes. "You'll ruin our dreary mood. And don't you worry about Wynne; she can handle herself. She took on four Fade Demons in the Mage Tower yesterday. It was absolutely beautiful. I doubt a Templar could've done better. It's a pity you weren't there; you might've been proud."

Just as Morrigan opened her mouth in retaliation, a woman ran around the bend of the path, sobbing hysterically. "Please," she cried to Cassia, "you must help me! Bandits have attacked our caravan!"

"Told you," Morrigan whispered and Leliana hushed her.

"We'll help you in whatever way we can," Cassia comforted her. "Just take us to where they are and we can handle the rest." The woman nodded, wiping tears from her eyes. Gripping Cassia by the sleeve, she pulled the woman around the bend and towards the overturned carriages.

Just as they neared the site of the assault, the woman released Cassia and walked ahead, her steps quick and confident. Instantly, the hairs on the back of Cassia's neck stood up and her shoulders tensed in suspicion. Her heartbeat quickened and a million thought ran through her mind. "This isn't right," she thought urgently, "it's a trap. I know that much. I must be ready for prepared for whatever they have in store for me." She could sense her companions' apprehension as well. It was as though the four shared the same brain waves, and a current of uneasiness

The four fell further behind the woman, preparing themselves for whatever lay ahead. It was too late for them to turn back now; they were too close and would easily be overrun by their enemies from the rear. They arrived just in time to see the woman nod at a blonde elf – obviously the leader – before assuming a position behind him.

Cassia and the blonde elf locked eyes, for the briefest of moments, before he screamed, "The Grey Warden dies here!" Now there was no time to shout, no time to think, only time to move. The sound of shattering wood attracted Cassia's attention, and she barely moved in time to avoid a tree falling onto the road.

It was obvious that the assassins – at least she guessed they were assassins – were well prepared for their attack. Four of them held elevated positions, with traps laid out to protect them from Cassia's advancing party members. And the other four, including the elf and the hysterical woman, were already on the offensive and preparing their weapons for attack.

"Leliana, Morrigan, take out those bastards on the high ground!" Cassia shouted. "Wynne, follow me!" She didn't dare turn to see if the others heard her instructions; she just ran forward to meet her first target: the blonde elfin leader. She cracked the elf across the skull with the flat edge of her weapon, hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to kill. She didn't pause to make sure he was dead; instead she quickly turned to her next target, the hysterical woman that had led them into the trap. Cassia was swift and ruthless with her blade, and the woman died within minutes.

"A little help here!" Morrigan shouted from somewhere above. Not wasting any time, Cassia climbed the steep hill closest to where Morrigan was fighting, dexterously bypassing a trap as she did so. An archer was standing with his back to Cassia, and she brought her sword down upon his shoulder, crippling him instantly. When he fell backwards in surprise and pain, she slit his throat with her dagger. Still breathing heavily, she stood up and searched the area for her next target. She was like a wild animal – a predator – still stuck in its killer mindset. Her stance relaxed when she saw her team members still standing amongst their fallen enemies.

"Bastard got my shoulder," Morrigan hissed. She approached Cassia holding her right hand over her left shoulder, in an attempt to stem the flow of blood that gushed from the wound.

"Wynne should take a look at it, unless you want one of these health poultices," Cassia said. When Morrigan indicated that she preferred the poultice, Cassia gingerly helped her apply the potion to her injury.

"Cassia," came Leliana's voice. "I think you should come down and take a look at this!"

"What is it?" Cassia questioned as she drew nearer to Leliana.

"This elf is still alive. What should we do with him?"

Cassia squatted to examine the elf herself. Sure enough, his chest rose and fell steadily with each breath he took. "Tie him up," she said. "We can question him when he wakes up."

"Mmm…," the elf groaned. He shifted his body slightly as a hiss of pain escaped his lips.

"Oh, sod it," Cassia swore. "Hurry with that rope! He's waking up." Leliana knelt and, true to her roguish ways, had him properly secured before he regained consciousness.

"My… _head_," he moaned. He opened his eyes and took in the sight of his four female captors: Cassia, Wynne, Morrigan, and Leliana. "Oh," he said, smiling at them, "hello there. I can't see why you haven't killed me yet. This should be rather interesting."

He was a handsome thing, Cassia noticed. He had darker skin than what she was accustomed to seeing in Ferelden, and it contrasted nicely with his golden-blonde hair. "I want to ask you some questions first," she answered. "Why…?"

"Allow me to save you the trouble," he interrupted. "My name is Zevran. I'm an Antivan Crow, and I was hired to kill you."

"An Antivan Crow?" Cassia asked in bewilderment. "What are…?"

"I can help you there. The Antivan Crows are an order of assassins," Leliana replied almost happily.

"Great," Cassia said sarcastically. "As if fighting Darkspawn and demons wasn't bad enough. Now we have to deal with assassins on our little adventure. So tell me, Zevran, who hired you?"

"A fellow by the name of Loghain, I believe," the Antivan sniffed. "A rather impatient man, if I recall."

"Figures," muttered Cassia. "What should I do with you, Zevran? Because I don't know what to think about anything right now because frankly, I've never encountered a circumstance like this before."

"Well, I suppose that's up to you now, isn't it?" he said, grinning at her. "You see, I'm in a bit of a situation myself. Should you spare me and let me return to the Crows, they will kill me for failing in my mission. I'm tied up and I can't defend myself, which means you could easily kill me right now. Or, if you're interested, I have a proposition for you."

Cassia stared at the elf, stunned. He was not crying and begging for his life, as she initially expected. He took his entire predicament in stride, as though he encountered similar situations daily. "I'm almost afraid to ask," she said slowly, "but what is your proposition?"

"You let me live, and I will travel and fight for you. I will swear an oath and profess my loyalty to you. That is my proposition."

"And how will know that you won't finish the job when my back is turned?"

"Look, I know that you're traveling with a group of warriors who could easily tear me apart. Why would I be stupid enough to try anything while your traveling with them?"

"Duly noted," she said. "But what sort of skills will you bring to the party? I need someone capable at my back, especially one who remains level-headed even in times of battle."

"I can do that, of course. I am likewise trained in weaponry and I can make various traps, provided I have the right equipment." When she hesitated he continued, "I can shine your armor and wash your clothes. Cook your meals. Or warm you bed, if you prefer."

"Bed-warming sounds nice," Cassia said without thinking. Blushing, she tried to ignore Morrigan's derisive cough and Zevran's mischievous smile. "Um, moving right along," she said. "So you can really do all those things? I mean fight and make traps? And you won't turn on me?"

"I'll swear it once you let me ago," he assured.

Cassia sighed. She never intended to kill him but she never intended to take him a long with her either. But she didn't want him to die either way, which left her with only one choice. "Very well, Zevran," she said with as much dignity as she could muster. "I'll hold you to your word. You can come with us."

She reached out a hand and pulled him to his feet. "I hereby swear my loyalty to you," he said. "I will honor my word until you are satisfied with it. This I swear."

"Welcome, Zevran. I'm sure you will prove yourself a worthy addition to our little team," Leliana greeted him.

"Oh," he said, "you're traveling with us too? I wasn't aware that four forms of loveliness existed among adventurers."

"Don't waste your breath," Morrigan said in disgust. "By the way," she addressed Cassia, "be sure to check your food and drink from now on. You can never be too careful."

"Sage advice for anyone," Zevran replied with exaggerated gravity. He winked at Cassia who rewarded him with a half smile. She could not explain it, but she already felt that she and the elfin assassin would get along just fine.

Author's Note: If this chapter seems rushed, it's because I hate, hate, hate, _hate_ writing introductions, especially for a game that most people already know. And I despise detailing every plot element (ie, battles and missions) so I'll probably skim through those too. What I really want to focus on is how the relationship between Zevran and Cassia develops. Oh, and the "magnificent bosom" thing? Interpret that in any way you wish. Lol

Thanks for your reviews! Bear with me please, some chapters take a while to write. :)


	3. Your accent

"You know, if I'd known that someday I would play a part in Dwarven politics, I might have paid attention more to what little I learned from Aldous," Cassia remarked. It was late evening – not yet nightfall – and the temperature dropped steadily with the fading sun. Shivering slightly, Cassia pulled her scarf more securely around her neck to better protect herself from the chill of the Kinloch Hold.

"Who's Aldous?" Leliana asked, her breath freezing in the frigid air and disappearing into the darkness, like soft tendrils of smoke.

"Oh, sorry. He worked as a historian for my parents," Cassia answered. "He always tried to teach me about the history of my family and Ferelden, but I never really paid attention." A slight twinge of guilt tugged at Cassia's heartstrings when she thought of her old teacher. The image of his broken body sprawled brutally on the floor of their library flashed through her mind, igniting the intense, smoldering flame of remorse that constantly burned deep within her.

Leliana nodded. "Well, you had no way of knowing this would happen. Think of it as a valuable and educational experience. Besides, I find Dwarven political affairs rather exciting!"

"Yeah, sure," Cassia answered, using all of her will power to resist rolling her eyes. "I didn't say I didn't find it 'exciting', it's just that the whole situation is incredible."

"What do you find incredible?" Leliana asked through a yawn. "Oh, sorry," she said. "This nippiness makes me tired."

"Me too," Cassia agreed. "Anyway, it's the _timing_ of everything that I find incredible. I mean, we arrive at the Mage tower in time to fight a bunch of demons and crazed Magi. Now Orzammar is politically split and socially frenzied, and _we_ have to clean up the mess!"

"True," Leliana said. Breathing into her palms to keep them warm, she continued, "Speaking of messes, have you tried talking to Zevran?"

"Not really. I've spoken to him once or twice but I haven't actually sat down with him yet. Have you?"

Leliana shrugged her shoulders. "A little. He seems interesting enough. He's certainly… unusual, to say the least. I think you should get to know him though," she urged.

"Well, it's not like I'm avoiding him," Cassia sighed. "I just haven't had enough time to talk to him or anyone else, for that matter.

"You have some time now," Leliana suggested. When Cassia raised her eyebrows at her, she blushed and said, "I'm not trying to get rid of you or anything. But the man did try to kill you. If you want to really deter him from one day turning on you, I suggest that you cultivate some kind of friendship with him as soon as possible. You know, give him less of an excuse to rejoin the Crows."

"You're right," Cassia admitted. "I guess I have some time to talk now." She turned and walked back to the center of their camp, where Sten, Alistair, and Zevran all stood around an enormous fire and Cassia paused briefly to allow the heat to chase the cold from her bones.

After a moment she turned slowly to face Zevran, who watched her with a bemused expression. "So, Zevran," she started awkwardly, "you… said you were from Antiva?"

"Yes," he said with a smile. "I was born there."

"Hmm. Never been there myself. What's it like?" she asked.

"Nothing like Ferelden; Ferelden smells of dirty laundry and wet dogs. And it always feels tired, like an exhausted old woman. Antiva is lively and energetic, like a young maiden."

"An interesting and vivid description," she said, a half-smile tugging at her lips. "But Ferelden isn't that bad, is it?"

He shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly. "Perhaps not. It does have one saving grace."

"What's that?" Cassia regretted the question the moment escaped her lips. Something about his mischievous smile already suggested his less-than-innocent intentions.

"It's women. Ferelden has some of the most beautiful women I've ever seen," he answered, grinning playfully.

She laughed softly. "Aw, that's sweet," she said with a smirk. "Does that line work often for you?"

He placed a hand over his heart and widened his eyes. "You think I jest? You… _wound_ me, Madam!"

"Oh, please. I know how you Antivans treat your women. Like rare gems, right?" she mused. "You can't tell me that you honestly find the hard-working, warrior maidens of Ferelden attractive in comparison to your delicate, graceful goddesses."

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," he reminded her, though he laughed too. He had a nice laugh, she decided. "How did you know about Antivan women?" he asked her curiously.

"Because I knew one once. An Antivan woman, I mean," she answered. "That's partly why I asked you about Antiva in the first place."

"Let me guess. To see if I would tell the truth?" he said, in a faintly mocking tone.

"No," she answered, "Your accent made me curious. The woman I knew didn't have much of an accent."

"Antiva is split into regions, which in turn are split further into districts," he explained. "I hail from the southern region of Antiva, where the accents are noticeably heavier. May I ask how you came to know an Antivan woman?"

"She was my brother's wife," Cassia replied.

"Was?"

"Yes…," she said, her heart feeling hard and heavy in her chest. "But I don't want to talk about that right now. Please."

He bowed his head respectively. "Of course. Whatever you wish." They lapsed into an awkward silence, with Cassia shivering uneasily in the night air.

"Well…" she said, "thank you for talking with me. I rather enjoyed it so… perhaps we could do it again soon."

"I'd like that," he responded. This time, a genuine smile lit up his face and Cassia could not help but smile back. The weight in her chest lifted somewhat, and her smile did not dissipate even after she retreated inside her tent.

"That was nice," she thought to herself. "But I am a fool. How can I even begin to like the very man that was sent to kill me? Especially when I barely know him?" No matter how hard she tried, however, she could not dismiss the warm, glowing feeling of happiness that had replaced her previous gloom. And before she drifted into sleep, she spent her remaining moments of consciousness trying to convince herself that the source of her bliss did not stem from the presence of a certain elf who stood just outside her tent.

Author's Note: A chapter that consists almost entirely of dialogue, but it felt good to write it all the same. This addition is short because I wanted to discuss Orzammar further, and I felt that this little exchange would've made the chapter a little too long. Also, I'm a little frustrated because I don't feel that I've been writing to my potential, which is something I need to work on.

Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I really appreciate them. :)


	4. Deep Road, Deep Memories

"So…, _what_ are we doing here again?" Alistair's voice echoed dimly in the vast caverns of the Deep Roads.

"Alistair, please don't tell me that you've forgotten already," Cassia sighed as she turned to stare at her companion.

"Forgotten what? You've never told me what we're supposed to be doing," he accused. "All you said was, 'come with me; we're going into the Deep Roads'. You never said anything about having an actual plan."

"Yes, I did," Cassia exclaimed, her voice rising in her exasperation. "I told you: first, we find the missing Aeducan sibling, then we help him find the Anvil of the Void. Simple."

"Well, you don't need to be so upset over it," Alistair whined, his boyish face set into a whimsical frown.

"But I must've told you what we were doing about ten times!" she burst out. Oghren and Zevran chuckled softly at the comical scene and eventually Alistair and Cassia joined in, their laughter reverberating throughout the vacant caves. "Alistair, you really are a character," Cassia said with a grin. "I suppose that's why I like you so much."

"Aw, shucks," he said, trying not to look pleased with himself and failing splendidly.

"Speaking of which," Cassia said to Oghren, "we should be getting close to where you said Aeducan guy is, correct?"

"Aye," he acknowledged gruffly. "This is the general area. He and his followers should be running around here somewhere."

"Pardon my – how you say – incredulity," Zevran interrupted, "but how do you know that the Aeducan heir is here?"

Oghren glared at Zevran, his red beard twitching in annoyance. "Because, elf, that's what one of his followers soddin' told me."

"And this person who told you, you can trust him?"

"He was a bloody friend of mine," Oghren growled, "of course I can soddin' trust him."

"So he and his band of men have been running around in the Deep Roads and fighting Darkspawn?" Zevran questioned, meeting Oghren's intense glower with a smile.

"Why not?" Cassia asked Zevran. "That's exactly what I would do." Zevran shrugged nonchalantly, finding no reason to argue with her.

"And that's exactly what anyone should do," came a voice from somewhere behind them. The four froze in surprise, their hands twitching instinctively for their weapons. "Don't touch them," the voice warned. Their hands stilled, falling limply to their sides. "Turn around slowly, and no sudden movements."

Obeying his command, the four rotated cautiously until they faced the source of the voice. Cassia's eyes widened. There were 20, maybe thirty dwarves standing behind them, all with their weapons drawn. It was a wonder how they didn't hear the band of men prowl behind them in the first place, and Cassia felt her face flush in embarrassment.

One of the dwarves stepped forward to speak. "State your name," he ordered Cassia. He was young, though not the youngest of the group, with a thick beard, black, beetle-like eyes, and a bold face.

"You first," Cassia challenged, meeting his authoritative dark eyes with her bright blue ones.

Oghren cleared his throat loudly. "You are speaking to Lord Aeducan," he informed her, wisely adopting an exaggerated, respectful tone.

"And who are you?" the man demanded of Oghren. "And how did you know to find us here?"

One of them Dwarven men stepped forward. "He is Oghren of House Kondraht. I am told him where I was going, your Lordship. I thought he might like to join me to fight the Darkspawn."

"And you said 'no'," Lord Aeducan sneered, fixing his dark eyes on Oghren. "Why?"

"I only would've gone if it meant I could find my wife," Oghren answered bluntly.

"I see," Lord Aeducan said coolly. "And what of you?" he asked Cassia. "You now know who I am, so you must tell me who you are."

"My name is Cassia. I am a Grey Warden," she said.

Aeducan's eyes widened. "A Grey Warden? You?" She nodded. "I wasn't aware that a female was allowed to become a Grey Warden, much less a human one." A few of the Dwarves laughed and Aeducan grinned, as though the notion was too ridiculous to take seriously.

"What's so surprising about that? Plenty of human women fight. Women serve in our army, just like you have Dwarven women serving in your army," she said, bristling at their laughter.

"Human women are too delicate to fight," Lord Aeducan dismissed. "Same with elfin men and elfin women; you are all too fragile."

Zevran opened his mouth to speak but Cassia cut him off. "You say that we are too weak? Very well. If we are too weak, then how did we survive this far?"

"Obviously with the help of your two companions," he indicated to Oghren and Alistair.

"I can fight just fine," she said loudly, only inciting more laughter from Aeducan's men.

"Sure you can," Aeducan grinned. "What's a pretty, dainty thing like you doing wandering around the Deep Roads anyway? Couldn't your way to a tea party?"

"If I wanted to listen to racist speeches, I would've visited all of Ferelden's nobles and saved myself the trip," she spat. "I thought you were warriors, some of the best Orzammar has to offer, not narrow-minded politicians."

Aeducan's bushy eyes narrowed. "How dare you," he hissed. "All of us here are warriors. You're looking at some of the finest soldiers who served in our military."

"So prove it," she challenged. "Fight with us. Help us find the Anvil of the Void so we can bring glory to your name."

He turned away from her at the mention of his name. "Orzammar has already turned its back on me. They exiled me when Bhelen framed me for our brother's murder. I cannot go back," he said bitterly.

She stepped forward. "I have spoken to many of Orzammar's nobles. Most of them believe in your innocence and are suspicious of your brother's intentions. Do you not know what is happening in your kingdom as we speak?"

"No," he said. "I have not heard anything new since my exile."

"Oh," she said softly. "I'm sorry to inform you, but… your father is dead. He fell ill and died not long after your exile."

"My father is… dead?" he asked. He closed his eyes in grief. "But that must mean that Bhelen is King."

"Not necessarily," she said. "Bhelen claims that he has the rights to your father's throne, but Lord Harrowmont insists that your father declared him as his successor. Orzammar is now split amongst the supporters of Bhelen and the supporters of Harrowmont."

"I see," he said, sounding unnerved. "Is that why you're looking for the Anvil? To give it to next king of Orzammar?"

"That's part of the plan," Cassia responded. "But Harrowmont is too old and he need his own successor, otherwise Orzammar will be split again after his death. That's where you come in; you find the Anvil, then you take it back to Orzammar. That grants you the status of Paragon, which in turn allows Harrowmont the ability to name you as his heir to the throne."

"That…," he started slowly, "actually sounds like it might work. Tell me, who came up with this plan?"

"I did," Cassia admitted with a touch of pride.

He looked impressed. "That's very good. Perhaps I underestimated you."

"Er, thanks," she replied. "Does that mean you'll join us?"

"Yes, you will have my sword and the swords of my men. We will fight a long side you and your companions. Together, we will crush our enemies and reign death upon the Darkspawn! Today, is the day we bring victory to our people!" The Dwarves erupted into cheers and various shouts promising the bloody demise of their foes.

"Good," she smiled after the shouts died down. "Oh, and before we begin, there's something I'd like to ask of you."

"What is it?"

"You know me by my first name only. I would like permission to call you by your first name as well."

He studied her for a moment, as though searching for some hint of insolence hiding among her facial features. When he found none, he relented. "You may call me by my first name, Cassia."

"Thank you," she said with a grin, "Ragnar."

They started their journey immediately, the adrenaline of the fight and the prospect of conquest only spurned them to further action. As expected, Ragnar and his bloodthirsty army quickly crushed the Darkspawn, who provided nothing more for the group than mere target practice. The further they traveled into the Dead trenches, however, the more they sensed a deadly and oppressive presence, one of pure evil.

"Okay," Alistair said, "that creepy lady isn't making this experience any more enjoyable."

A murmur of agreement ran through the group, as another echo of "_…on the fifth day_" followed them through the tunnel. "I don't like it," Oghren warned. "Hespith was a strong woman before she left with Branka. Now's she's… _daft_."

"She's disturbed alright," Cassia commented, "but she was talking like Branka is still alive. That must mean she's further in the Darkspawn territory, probably near the Void itself."

"I just heard something," Zevran announced suddenly. Cassia and the others looked to him in surprise; he had remained strangely silent throughout most of their journey. "It sounded like rumbling, like something big was moving around. Be on your guard."

The stench of death grew stronger as they pushed on, growing overwhelmingly pungent and oppressive, as though if formed a barrier between them and whatever lied ahead. No one made a noise, save for the soft thuds of their boots against the stone floor.

_"Brood Mother…._"

"What did she say?" asked one of them men as they walked into the clearing. No one answered him and no one needed too, because the presence of a very large, very angry, creature answered the question itself. It was a huge creature, maybe twenty feet tall, with tentacles and a torso covered with breast. It opened its hideous mouth and an inhuman screeched poured from its lips, causing a moment of frenzied panic in the group.

"_That's_ a brood mother?" Alistair shouted, his mouth gaping and his eyes bulging. "What are we supposed to do with it?"

"Quick, Alistair, run out and find it a good husband!" Cassia shouted back.

"Ha!" Ragnar laughed as he ran past them, his eyes wild with excitement.

"What do you think we're supposed to do with it? Kill it!" she yelled as she ran forward to join the others. Easier said than done. A group of thirty-odd hardened soldiers and four of the best warriors in Ferelden could not easily overtake the creature. It wielded its tentacles with deadly accuracy, and it constantly called groups of Darkspawn to aid it in its fight.

At one point in the battle, Cassia ran forward to save Ragnar from being swept up by one of the Brood Mother's tentacles. When she pushed him out of harm's way, however, the tentacle aimed for Ragnar captured her instead. Wrapping itself around her leg, it held her above its head, dangling her like a child dangles a captured insect. It kept her there for a few moments, slowly bringing her closer to its wretched mouth. Zevran, thanks to his sharp intellect, quickly shot the tentacle with one of his arrows and injured the Brood Mother before she had a chance to inflict any real injury upon Cassia.

Even a Brood Mother could not stand against a group of Orzammar's finest soldier and it, like so many before it, succumbed to their blades.

"The ol' gal really did put up a fight," Cassia remarked as she examined its fallen body. "But they must've put this thing here for a reason. We must be getting very close to the Void."

"Good," Ragnar said grimly. "Oh, and… thanks for helping me back there. I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it," she said. "Let's just keep moving." Together, they walked along the small passage leading from the Brood Mother's lair in silence, ears sensitive for any signs of a second Brood Mother.

"What do you think you're doing here?" a new voice hissed.

"That's Branka," announced Oghren. "I would know that pissed-off female voice anywhere."

"I _said_, what are you doing here?" she said again. A lone figure stepped out from the darkness and in front of them, a female dwarf with facial tattoos and dark hair.

"Branka!" Oghren greeted enthusiastically, "how've ya been?" He stopped when he saw the bodies of Dwarven soldiers strewn about like pathetic, lifeless dolls. "By the Ancestors," he said softly, "what the hell happened here?"

"They couldn't stand against the onslaught of Darkspawn soldiers," she said with no trace of remorse.

"You're just leaving them here to rot?" Alistair said in disgust. "Don't you even care for your own men?"

She turned her face to his, her expression hauntingly vacant. "These things happen in battle," she said dully. "And you have yet to tell me what you are doing here."

"We're here to find the Anvil of the Void," Ragnar answered. "If you're to help, good. If not, step aside."

"You think you can just walk in, grab the anvil, and walk out?" Branka sneered. "No. There are a series of tests that you must pass first, just to reach the area where the Anvil is secured. I have been here for weeks, just trying to figure out how to begin the first task. Do you honestly think you'll have an easier time?"

"He can do it," Cassia answered confidently. "That why he's here."

"You better," she said, "or your bodies will join theirs'." She stretched her arm, indicating to the bodies of her fallen comrades.

"Branka," Oghren said softly, "by the Ancestor's, what has happened to you?" She didn't answer him, and silently watched Cassia and Ragnar walk to the cave leading to the Void.

"You can do it," Cassia repeated as they stared into the cave's foreboding gloom.

"I know won't fail," he said, "not as long as the Spirits of our Ancestors are with us." He motioned for his men to follow him when Cassia stopped him.

"Hold on," she said. "Oghren," she called, "why don't you go with them?"

"You sure?" he called back, sounding puzzled.

"Go for it," she urged, and Ragnar's men waited patiently for him to join them. Together, they disappeared into the chasm of the darkness, the soft clinks of their metallic armor growing fainter and fainter as they pushed forward.

Alistair seated himself against one of the walls, watching the entrance to the cave like a hawk. Cassia sat herself on one of the stones and sighed heavily. Zevran sat next to her, close enough that they were almost touching. "This may take a while," he said, rubbing his hands together. "But it is almost finished. Can you not feel it?"

"Sort of," she said. A thought occurred to her. "Zevran," she said, "how did you join the Antivan Crows anyway?"

"It is a depressing story," he sighed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she answered. "I won't force you to do anything."

She stretched her legs and leaned back against her arms, slowly easing the tension from her tired limbs. An awkward silence hung between them. Zevran watched her, and she watched everything but her elfin companion.

"I'll tell of how I joined the Crows if you promise to tell me something about yourself in return," he said, shattering the quiet.

"Fair enough," she agreed. She shifted in her seat to face him and leaned forward, resting her head on her hands and watched him with a sincere intensity.

"My mother was a Dallish elf," he began, "who left her clan when she fell in love with a woodcutter. He died, and she worked in Antiva to pay off his debts."

"What did she do to earn her money?" Cassia asked, though she already predicted the answer.

"She was a whore," he said casually, confirming her prediction. "She died when she gave birth to me."

"Oh, I'm sorry Zevran." She meant it.

He shrugged. "I never knew her," he said. "Anyway, I grew up in a whorehouse until I was about seven years old. Then, I was sold to the Crows."

Cassia's eyes widened. "Wait, let me make sure I'm getting this right," she interrupted. "Not only did you grew up in a whorehouse, but they sold you to a bunch of assassins when you were only seven years old? As a slave?"

"Yes, I think you've got it," he answered, somewhat taken aback by her reaction.

"But Zev, that's horrible!" she said vehemently, using his nickname for the first time. "Maker, I had no idea!"

"It wasn't all bad," he responded. "With the Crows I had plenty of food, wine, and women, so… those were bonuses. I wouldn't suggest joining them though." When she closed her eyes and shook her head, he added, "Well, I did warn you that you would find it depressing! You can't say that I didn't!"

"When you said that your childhood was depressing, it could have meant anything," she replied, her eyes flying open. "But what you're saying is that you didn't really join the Crows, but you were forced to work for them anyway?"

"Yes, that is what happened," he said. "I was small, skinny thing when they purchased me. Just a bag of bones, or so they said. I resisted their training at first, but they broke me eventually. I let them mold me into what they wanted; I am nothing more than one of their puppets, brightly painted but forever bound to their strings."

"But you're not," she argued. "At least not now. You're with me, not with the Crows. I won't beat you or starve you or whatever the hell they did to you. I promise."

"I… thank you. For the record, I've never thought that you do those things to me."

She laughed dryly. "Why? Because I'm too small to do any real damage?"

"No," he said. "Because you've never struck me as the type who would."

"That's good, because I'm _not_." A self-righteous anger burned within her as her mind flashed with images of the sorts of vengeance she could carry out against the Crows. Zevran pulled her from her stupor.

"May I ask you something now?" he questioned. His tone was careful, as though he could feel her anger.

"Of course."

"What were you like as a child?" he wanted to know.

"You really want to know about that?" she asked in surprise.

"Yes. I wouldn't have asked unless I was interested." Now it was his turn to lean forward and listen.

"Well," she faltered, "it's just that no one's really asked me that before. It's no secret but… it just caught me off guard, I guess." She rubbed her chin in thought, thoroughly at a loss of where to begin. "Let's see…, I was sick until I was about nine years old. And before you ask, no, they never figured out exactly what I had."

"Was it very bad?"

"Let me put it this way: I was dying. I nearly died three times, but I never figured that out. I felt weak – sure – but I never felt like I was dying. I just knew that I was constantly sick, weak, and tired. And the only world I really knew was my room, since I had to stay in my bed the whole time."

"You never knew you were dying? How could you not have known?"

"Because they, my parents, never told me. They never cried when they saw me or shed any tears in my presence. They always put on brave faces when they were around me, and they hugged me a lot. 'Be a strong girl for us,' they'd say. So every day I tried my hardest to be that strong girl they wanted."

"Did they have any other children?" Zevran asked.

"They had my older brother, Fergus. He used to read to me when I was too little to read for myself. And he always read me his best adventure stories, since they were my favorite."

"That's nice," he said, flashing a smile. "Your family must've cared for you very much."

"I cared for them too," she responded, her eyes downcast. "You know, Zev, you're the first person to ask me about my childhood. It feels nice to talk about it for once."

"You're welcome. You're the first person to ask me how I came to join the Crows," he said. "I think I forgot to mention that."

"Hmm," she murmured, wanting something better to say. "If you hadn't joined the Crows then we never would've met. Then you never would've gotten an opportunity to escape them."

"True," he admitted. "But don't you care that I tried to kill you?"

"I haven't forgotten, if that's what you're asking," she said. "To be honest, I'm kind of glad it happened. I'm happy to have you with me." Inwardly, she cringed once the words escaped. It wasn't that she was lying, of course. "Why did I just say that?" she thought. "I must sound so desperate."

To her surprise, he merely smiled. "And here I am, happy to be had." He brought his face much closer to hers. "_Very_ happy." He was closer now, much too close. She could see flecks of green in his golden eyes and a faint scar etched upon his cheek.

"What's he doing?" she thought dizzily to herself. "This is happening so fast." In that single, crazy moment, however, she wanted nothing more than to feel his lips pressed against hers. Her mouth parted in anticipation; he was close enough now that she could feel his breath against hers…..

"We've got it!" came the triumphant shout! They tore themselves away from each other, Cassia's face red with embarrassment. The Anvil of the Void! We've got it!"

Author's Note: Ragnar = strong army. This is by far one of the longest chapters I've ever written. Period. On that note, I think it's the best one I've written for this story (so far). And thanks for all your feedback. They really help. :)


	5. Of Love: Lost and Found

"So… Ragnar found the Anvil, but he let that Caridin guy destroy it?" Leliana asked. "Why?" It was late evening, and the two women were huddled near the camp's fire for warmth.

"Because he believed Caridin when he said that the Anvil was dangerous," Cassia explained. "So we took the crown and what was left of the Anvil back to Orzammar. Then we presented everything to the nobles, crowned Harrowmont, and killed Bhelen. Voila."

"That doesn't explain why Zevran is lying in his tent, sick."

Cassia bit her bottom lip in worry. "We're not sure. I think one of Bhelen's men may have dipped his arrows into some kind of poison." It was true. One the soldier's wayward arrows grazed Zevran's arm in the brief battle following Harrowmont's crowning. It was a light scratch - a flesh wound – but the poison was potent enough to severely affect his health. As Leliana and Cassia conversed, Wynne and Morrigan were tending his wounds and cleansing the toxin from his body.

"So the Anvil was destroyed and Zevran nearly died," Leliana pointed out. "Tell me, Cassia, was it worth our while?"

"Harrowmont is king, Ragnar is a paragon, and we have the military support of a Dwarven army," Cassia counted on her fingers. "Yeah, I think we made out okay."

"Let me be more specific," Leliana said. "Did _we_, meaning our rag-tag team, receive anything in return? Weapons, armor, anything of that sort?"

"Yes, of course we did. We even brought it all back with us, if you want to take a look." Ragnar even offered Cassia some items from his personal spoils, including two bars of solid silver. Cassia slipped them inside her pocket without a second thought and forgot about them until they were safely in camp. It wasn't that she was ungrateful – far from it in fact – but she wasn't sure what to do with them. She could sell them, yes, but she wanted to give them to someone as a gift. She just didn't know whom to give them to.

"Well, we've done all we can for now," Wynne announced. She and Morrigan emerged for the confines of Zevran's tent, looking exhausted but pleased.

"Is he fine? Is he going to be okay?" Cassia asked, her tone somewhat anxious.

"Yes, he'll be fine," Wynne assured. "But he's resting now so it's best not to disturb him."

"That's good," Cassia said, looking visibly relieved. Her shoulders sagged slightly as the tension left her body. Suddenly she felt very tired.

"My, my," Morrigan said, "you were really worried over him, weren't you?" For once, the witch sounded more amazed then contemptuous.

"Of course I was," Cassia replied, "he's my friend. I'd be worried if the same thing happened to one of you."

Both Wynne and Leliana smiled. "That's sweet of you, dear," Wynne said, though Morrigan still looked skeptical.

"I think I'll stop in and see him before I go to bed," Cassia said. "Just for my peace of mind."

"It won't do you much good," Morrigan remarked. "He's asleep. Fell asleep shortly before we left."

"I won't make any noise. Just a quick visit and then I'll leave. I shouldn't more than two minutes."

"Very well," Wynne relented. "But he needs his rest, so don't disturb him too much."

"Okay, okay, I get it." Cassia could barely keep her annoyance in check. She was too tired and impatient to allow Wynne to mother her all night. Waving them away with her hand, she climbed inside Zevran's tent without so much as a backwards glance.

She stopped and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. When her vision sharpened, she could clearly see the elf curled up inside his bedroll. Despite the chill of the night, his shoulders were bare and exposed to the frigid air. Silently, she crawled on her hands knees to where he was sleeping and gently felt his face with her hand. He was still warm with fever, though not hot as he was before. His breaths were deep and even, and his lips were parted slightly in sleep. She watched him for a moment, her eyes tracing the patterns of his facial markings and the crystalline features of his handsome face. He was attractive, beautiful even, and painfully tempting. She sighed and gently pulled his blanket over his exposed shoulders.

Just as she turned to leave, however, he stopped her. "Leaving already?"

She looked back in surprise. "You're not supposed to be awake," she said stupidly. "Wait a second, you were just pretending to be asleep?"

"Of course," he shrugged.

"Why?" she asked, exasperated. Her flush flushed in embarrassment.

"Because I wanted them to leave," he said shamelessly. "Wynne and Morrigan are lovely company, but they can grow quite tiring after awhile, no?"

She smiled despite herself. "True, but you could've at least said something when I came in. Instead you let me make a fool of myself."

"You're quite cute when you blush," he grinned playfully. "But please, stay for a bit longer. I could use some company."

"Okay," she sighed as she seated herself next to him, "what do you want to do?"

"Hmmm. We're alone, in my tent, at night. I wonder what I could possibly want to do…," he let his voice trail off suggestively.

"Not while you're sick," she said firmly.

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh? So all I have to do is get better and then you'll join me?"

"Maybe," she replied, trying not to blush.

"I think I'm feeling better now," he said, sitting up.

"Zev, _no_," she laughed. "You're still hot and you need your sleep."

"Oh, but you must be hot too, since you're still wearing all that armor," he clucked his tongue in mock sympathy. "Come here, let Zevran help you take it off…."

He made as though to reach for her and she pulled away from him, laughing harder. "Zev, stop! Or Wynne will come in here and curse us both for making such a racket!"

He dropped his hands though he still looked mischievous. "Now you've done it," he pouted. "Just like a woman: getting a man's hopes up and then squashing them flat."

"Oh, hush," she chuckled. "You're the one who got your own hopes up. Besides, I'd like to ask you something personal, now that I think of it."

"Oh? This should be good. Go ahead."

"How many women have you been with? Really?"

The mood inside the tent changed. "This could be a sensitive topic," he cautioned. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"I asked, didn't I? You tell me yours then I'll tell you mine. That way it's fair."

"Fine," he said. "I told you that the Crows purchased me at an early age, remember?" She nodded. "When I was older, learned that the Crows only seek out candidates who match a certain set of criteria."

"I'm not sure I'm following you…."

"All new 'recruits' had to show a talent for the art of battle, as well as the art of seduction," he explained. "Sleeping with someone is often easier and less time consuming than torturing them for information."

"I see," she said, catching on. "So, all new members had to be attractive enough to easily seduce someone, should the situation call for it. I get it."

"Yes, but we are not limited by the opposite sex. You see, sometimes I had sleep with members of both sexes."

"Wait a second. Are you saying that you slept with men too?" she questioned, caught off guard by his last statement.

"Yes, I did," he admitted. "Do I prefer women? Yes, I think I do. But the real question is: does this bother you? Do you feel differently now that you know?"

She hesitated, thinking to herself. She was surprised and a yes, a bit jealous, but not repulsed. "No, it doesn't bother me, Zev," she said finally. "I'm glad you were honest with me though."

"That is good to know," he replied, pleased with her answer. "You are better than most, I suspect. Now, as you promised, tell me about your scandalous past."

"Me? I've only slept with two people. And only one of them was considered 'scandalous'."

"Only two?" Somehow he was not shocked. "Tell me about the scandalous one."

"He was an elf and his name was Amir. Had all the nobles in an uproar with that one."

"How did you meet him?"

"We went to school together. He was my friend before he was my lover."

"Wait, I thought you said you were sick for most of your childhood?"

"I was, but I got better. I was such a small, sickly thing too. And I used to read a lot, since I had nothing better to do while I was stuck in bed," she leaned back, losing herself in her own memories. "My parents saw that I liked to read, and decided to send me away to 'Blessed Mother of Andraste', a private school in the north. But that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted adventure and excitement, anything but sitting inside some classroom all day."

"So you met him at this school," Zevran said. "Was he a servant?"

"No, he was a student, and a brilliant one at that. He was even smarter than most of the teachers," she described. "He was cute too. He had this dark, thick, reddish-brown hair and big green eyes. He even developed a huge crush on me when we first met. Alas! I was a haughty, proud thing and I spurned his youthful advances. I wanted tall, strong boys, not an intelligent and an insightful elf."

"How did you become friends?"

"I got over myself and I stopped acting stupid. It wasn't long before he became my best friend, and eventually we became inseparable."

"I see," he said. "That's a nice thing to think about."

"Yes, it is," she agreed. But her smile faltered. "Sometimes the past is a painful thing," she said, "even if the memories are happy ones."

They sat in silence for a bit: Zevran, at a loss for what to say (for once), and Cassia, engrossed in her thoughts. "He must've been very special to you," he said softly. 

"He was," she replied. "But that doesn't mean that I'm stuck in the past. He was special to me, but we've both moved on now." She pulled the silver bars from her pocket. "Here, I wanted to give you these."

He ran his fingers over their smooth surfaces and admired their soft sheen in the dim lighting of his tent. "Thank you," he breathed. "But I have nothing to give you in return."

"I don't need anything in return," she smiled. "That's why they're a gift."

"Thank you," he repeated. He reached over and slipped them inside his pack.

"He's like a big, spoiled cat," she thought as she watched his fluid movements, "with his golden eyes and the way he almost purrs when he's happy." Her exhaustion suddenly overpowered her, like a slap across the face. Wearing heavy armor and fighting all day tends to eventually affect one's stamina. "Zev," she said suddenly, "I was serious when I said that I would… spend a night with you. You knew that, right?"

"Of course," he said. "I never pegged you as someone who spoke of that casually.

"Good," she said flirtatiously. She brought her face closer to his and nuzzled the side of his face. "Because I really," she kissed his cheek, "really," she kissed the side of his mouth, "like you." He was smiling now, and she loved it. She gently pressed her lips against his, like a butterfly lighting upon a flower. His mouth melted into hers as he hungrily kissed her back.

After a moment she pulled away, smiling at his disappointed frown. "That was just to hold you over until you're better," she explained. She kissed him again, briefly. "Good night," she whispered.

"Good night, you saucy tease," he said. He leaned back with a sigh. "I doubt that I will sleep _now_," he called after her grumpily.

Author's Note: Finally, THEY KISS! Ok, this may be sudden to some people but if you recall, Zevran is one of the easiest members to bed. And you can sleep with him early in the game. So… if anything I was moving a bit too slowly. Thanks for your reviews, everyone! Hopefully I edited this chapter better than the last one.


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